Fosse was born in Chicago, Illinois, to a Norwegian American father, Cyril K. Fosse, and Irish-born mother, Sara Alice Fosse (née Stanton), the second youngest of six.[2] He teamed up with Charles Grass, another young dancer, and began a collaboration under the name The Riff Brothers. They toured theatres throughout the Chicago area. After being recruited, Fosse was placed in the variety show Tough Situation, which toured military and naval bases in the Pacific. Fosse moved to New York with the ambition of being the new Fred Astaire. His appearance with his first wife and dance partner Mary Ann Niles (1923–1987) in Call Me Mister brought him to the attention of Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis. Fosse and Niles were regular performers on Your Hit Parade during its 1950-51 season, and during this season Martin and Lewis caught their act in New York's Pierre Hotel and scheduled them to appear on the Colgate Comedy Hour. Fosse was signed to a MGM contract in 1953.[3] His early screen appearances included Give A Girl A Break, The Affairs of Dobie Gillis and Kiss Me Kate, all released in 1953. A short sequence that he choreographed in the latter (and danced with Carol Haney) brought him to the attention of Broadway producers.[4]

Although Fosse's acting career in film was cut short by typecasting, he was reluctant to move from Hollywood to theatre. Nevertheless, he made the move, and in 1954, he choreographed his first musical, The Pajama Game, followed by George Abbott's Damn Yankees in 1955. It was while working on the latter show that he first met the redheaded rising star whom he was to marry in 1960, Gwen Verdon. Verdon won her first Tony Award for Best Actress in Damn Yankees (she had won previously for best supporting actress in Can-Can). (Fosse appears in the film version of Damn Yankees, which he also choreographed, in which Verdon reprises her stage triumph as "Lola"; they partner each other in the mambo number, "Who's Got the Pain".) In 1957 Fosse choreographed New Girl in Town, also directed by Abbott, and Verdon won her second Leading Actress Tony. That year he also choreographed the film version of "Pajama Game" starring Doris Day. In 1960, Fosse was, for the first time, both director and choreographer of a musical called simply Redhead.[5]

Notable distinctions of Fosse's style included the use of turned-in knees, sideways shuffling, rolled shoulders, and jazz hands.[6] With Astaire as an influence, he used props such as bowler hats, canes and chairs. His trademark use of hats was influenced by his own self-consciousness. According to Martin Gottfried in his biography of Fosse, "His baldness was the reason that he wore hats, and was doubtless why he put hats on his dancers."[7] He used gloves in his performances because he did not like his hands. Some of his most popular numbers include "Steam Heat" (The Pajama Game) and "Big Spender" (Sweet Charity). The "Rich Man's Frug" scene in Sweet Charity is another example of his signature style. Although he was replaced as the director/choreographer for the short-lived 1961 musical The Conquering Hero, he quickly took on the job of choreographer of the 1961 musical hit How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, which starred Robert Morse.[7][8]

Fosse directed five feature films. His first, Sweet Charity in 1969, starring Shirley MacLaine, is an adaptation of the Broadway musical he had directed and choreographed. Fosse shot the film largely on location in Manhattan. His second film, Cabaret, won eight Academy Awards, including Best Director, which he won over Francis Ford Coppola for The Godfather starring Marlon Brando. The film was shot on location in Berlin; Liza Minnelli and Joel Grey both won Oscars for their roles.

Fosse went on to direct Lenny in 1974, a biopic of comic Lenny Bruce starring Dustin Hoffman. The film was nominated for Best Picture and Best Director Oscars, among other awards. However, just as Fosse picked up his Oscar for Cabaret, his Tony for Pippin, and an Emmy for directing Liza Minnelli's television concert, Liza with a Z, his health suffered and he underwent open-heart surgery. In 1979, Fosse co-wrote and directed a semi-autobiographical film All That Jazz, which portrayed the life of a womanizing, drug-addicted choreographer-director in the midst of triumph and failure. All That Jazz won four Academy Awards, earning Fosse his third Oscar nomination for Best Director. It also won the Palme d'Or at the 1980 Cannes Film Festival. In the summer and fall of 1980, working with All That Jazzexecutive producer Daniel Melnick, He commissioned documentary research for a follow-up feature having to do with the motivations that compel people to become performers, but he found the results uninspiring and abandoned the project.[citation needed]

In All That Jazz, Fosse not only toyed with the notion of his own death, but immortalized the two people who would perpetuate the Fosse legacy, Gwen Verdon and Ann Reinking. Reinking appears in the film as the protagonist's lover/protégé/domestic-partner. She, like Verdon, would be responsible for keeping Fosse's trademark choreography alive after Fosse's death. Reinking played the role of Roxie Hart in the highly successful New York revival of Chicago, which opened in 1996. She choreographed the dances "in the style of Bob Fosse" for that revival, which is still running on Broadway as of June 2013. In 1999, Verdon served as artistic consultant on a plotless Broadway musical designed to showcase examples of classic Fosse choreography. Called simply Fosse, the three-act musical revue was conceived and directed by Richard Maltby, Jr. and Ann Reinking and choreographed by Reinking and Chet Walker. Verdon and Fosse's daughter, Nicole, received a "special thanks" credit. The show won a Tony for best musical.[9] Many credit him with being the sole engineer of Michael Jackson's career for his work on The Little Prince (1974), saying that Jackson may have copied Fosse's choreography and the wardrobe Fosse's character had in that film. In many ways Fosse is credited as the indirect innovator of the careers of many dancers around the world.[10]

His final film, 1983's Star 80, was a controversial biopic about slain Playboy Playmate Dorothy Stratten. The film is based on the Pulitzer Prize-winning article on the same topic. The film was nominated for several awards, and was screened out of competition at the 34th Berlin International Film Festival.[11] In 1986 he directed, wrote, and choreographed the Broadway production of Big Deal. Although nominated for five Tony awards, and winning for best choreography, the production closed after only 69 performances.

Fosse was an innovative choreographer and had multiple achievements in his life. For Damn Yankees, he took a great deal of inspiration from the "father of theatrical jazz dance", Jack Cole.[7] He also took influence from Jerome Robbins. New Girl in Town gave Fosse the inspiration to direct and choreograph his next piece because of the conflict of interest within the collaborators. During that piece, Redhead, the first he had directed as well as choreographed, Fosse utilized one of the first ballet sequences in a show that contained five different styles of dance; Fosse's jazz, a cancan, a gypsy dance, a march, and an old-fashioned English music hall number. Fosse utilized the idea of subtext and gave his dancers something to think about during their numbers. He also began the trend of allowing lighting to influence his work and direct the audience's attention to certain things. During Pippin, Fosse made the first ever television commercial for a Broadway show.[4]

In 1957, both Verdon and Fosse were studying with Sanford Meisner to develop a better acting technique for themselves. According to Michael Joosten, Fosse once said: "The time to sing is when your emotional level is too high to just speak anymore, and the time to dance is when your emotions are just too strong to only sing about how you "feel."[12]

When passengers enter the cab, they are recorded with several small cameras hidden in the taxi. The producer prompts passengers into discussing their past and/or present circumstances. This has led some participants to reflect on their life, recalling extreme tragedies or triumphs.

Much is verbally or visually graphic, including explicit sex talk and sex acts performed in the back seat. At the end of the taxi ride, passengers are asked to sign waivers allowing the hidden camera footage to be used on the program, and footage of this revelation is sometimes seen during the closing credits.

Separating the segments are short video montages showing life in the city, incorporating quick cuts of club interiors, flashing neon signage, strippers and the homeless, along with the series theme music, "Over the Rainbow" by Me First and the Gimme Gimmes.

The series originated in New York, moved to Las Vegas and in recent years returned to New York.

An intriguing film by Jean-Pierre Melville that could be described focusing on sexual tension between a priest and a young woman, but that would be too basic. Highly recommended.

"In 1961, one year after he appeared in "Breathless" (1960) and two years after she appeared in "Hiroshima, Mon Amour," Jean-Paul Belmondo and Emmanuelle Riva made "Leon Morin, Priest." They were both in the white heat of their early careers; Belmondo would make five other films that year. The director was Jean-Pierre Melville, known for his films about gangsters and the Resistance. A crime film might have been ideal for them, but instead they filmed this story at the intersection of desire, religion and politics.

When a film shows us a priest and a woman, both attractive and in their early 20s, alone together in a room with the door closed, we've been programmed to think about the possibility of sex. Certainly every priest and every young woman knows this. Fifty years ago, many young women in France would have been reluctant to accept such an invitation from a man they scarcely knew -- but a priest, of course, has taken the vow of celibacy, and so ...

And so, what? She counts on him not making a move and is intrigued by the situation? He counts on her thinking that way and takes advantage? Possibly. Then again, they may both sincerely intend to discuss religion. Their discussion has in fact started earlier in the confessional, which Barny (Riva) entered looking for a fight. Her opening words weren't "Bless me, father, for I have sinned," but "Religion is the opiate of the masses!" She chose her confessor sight unseen on the basis of his name, thinking working-class parents might well name a boy "Leon."

She is a communist. Such an affiliation was common enough in France during the German occupation, when the centrist parties were playing along with the collaborationist Vichy government. She's also a widow with a half-Jewish daughter, and a worker for a correspondence school that relocated from Paris to a town in the French Alps after the Germans marched in. The town has been occupied by genial Italians wearing feathers in their hats, who seem largely concerned with going on hikes and eating pastries. Then the German tanks rumble in, and the Nazis round up their Italian allies, shoot them and get down to the business of rounding up Jews.

Barny and two other mothers with half-Jewish children have them baptized as Catholics in an attempt to protect them. Perhaps it was during this ceremony that she began to brood about the arbitrary line separating Christians and Jews. As an atheist, she finds religion a paltry reason for murder. Seeking out a priest to argue with, she is startled to find one whose tactic is to agree with her as far as he can. Yes, many members of the masses use religion as an opiate. Yes, the expensive furnishings in a church appall him. He points out that the church no longer makes distinctions between social classes: "Why should it take three priests to bury a rich man? We're not undertakers."

After her "confession," he offers to lend her a book and asks her to meet him in his room. She thinks of little else for four days. We know from the earlier scenes that this young widow is awake to sexual desire; she's obsessed with the woman who runs her office and thinks of her as beautiful, perfect, an amazon. When this woman stands behind her to point out something in a document and allows her breasts to cradle Barny's neck, the effect is electric.

We perhaps anticipate "Leon Morin, Priest" will lead to sex. Melville is too good a filmmaker to settle for such a simple solution. To our astonishment, it leads to instruction in the Catholic faith, Barny visiting the room once or twice a week to debate Leon and read his books. For both of them, I believe, these visits have a strong sexual undercurrent, and indeed he discovers that Barny sees other young women from the parish, but apparently no men, for religious instruction. Does he enjoy being close but not touching?

A sexy office mate of Barny's with easy morals vows she'll seduce him, "because I never fail." Is that what the film's about? Seduction interruptus? Only in small part. The German occupation draws a tighter net. Barny hides her daughter with two old maids living on a farm. An old Jewish scholar at work gets a new passport and a new name. The amazon at work learns her brother has been killed by Nazis, visibly ages and loses her spirit. Barny gets in fierce arguments against collaborating with the Vichy government, although it must be said she makes no move to join the Resistance.

There's a striking scene when the children are baptized; some of their fathers, Resistance fighters, appear for the ceremony, and then melt back into the nearby forest. "It's as if you were watching fathers leaving for that day's work," writes critic Manohla Dargis. Melville, usually a classic stylist, uses a style unusual for him. He breaks the action into brief scenes punctuated by fades to black. It's as if a window opens and closes on the series of events -- as if one need not necessarily lead to the next.

We rarely see the priest when he isn't in the same room with Barny. Once, during mass, he seems to go out of his way to allow the sleeve of his cassock to brush against her breast. She is sure this is not coincidence. So am I. Dissolve. In general, he has a curious way of touching her. She approaches him in church one day after confession while he's talking with an old lady, and he pushes her roughly aside: "Meet me in my room."

Once as she's entering his room he pushes, not gently, to hurry her from behind. When the office temptress sits provocatively on the edge of his desk with her legs crossed, he rudely pulls down her skirt to cover her knee. A polite man would not lightly treat women in this way. The priest has a license. In a way, the film is about his license. When Barny flirts with him ("Would you marry me if I were a Protestant?"), he reacts with anger. She's calling his bluff. She no longer feels free to visit him.

"Leon Morin, Priest" is a consistently intriguing film, because Melville so cleverly plays with our expectations. There is an undercurrent of sincere religiosity at work. Morin is a sincere priest who is prepared to accept a posting in a remote district where no one will be interested in his books. "I will convert the nations," he says, "starting with this village."

He has persuasive answers to all of Barny's questions about the faith, and you will discover what effect they have. He's a worldly realist. Asking "Are your hands pure?" and learning that she masturbates using a piece of wood, he asks, "Does it hurt?"

Jean-Pierre Melville (1917-1973), born Grumbach, changed his name in admiration of Herman Melville; he was a major 1950s French director who had an important influence on the New Wave. Unable to break into the French studio system after the war, Melville was a pioneering independent who shot on location, had to suspend productions to raise more money to buy film stock, paid poorly and yet under these conditions made his two great first films, "Les Enfants Terribles" (1950) and "Bob le Flambeur" (1956). Yet as Truffaut, Godard and their fellow Wavers swept American art houses, his films were late to be discovered. Since his work has been restored on DVD, he's finding an enthusiastic new following.